


Tumble Down

by helens78



Category: Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones
Genre: Bondage, F/F, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-01
Updated: 2006-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Siri's been teaching Padmé how to pick locks; Padmé decides to work on distraction techniques.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumble Down

"Stay calm," Siri says. "If this ever happens to you in the real world, you'll need to know what to do."

But this feels real enough to Padmé, and she's not calm. She's too aware of everything -- the floor under her, the steel around her wrists, Siri kneeling next to her, the smell of Siri's leather. Leather from head to toe. That's not the kind of Jedi Padmé's used to.

"I can't--" Padmé squirms. "Start over. I can't focus."

"Yes, you can." Siri's hands are on her knees, relaxed. She doesn't have to reach up to pin Padmé's cuffs to the floor. "Where are your lockpicks?"

"I have them." They're between her fingers, and she takes hold of one now.

"Good. Now relax and bend your wrist down. Just because it's upside-down doesn't mean you can't do it. We've practiced this."

"Right..." Padmé lets out a breath and puts the lockpick in the slot. She can't feel the tumblers. "No. This isn't going to work."

"You're right. You're giving me too much time to see what you're doing. Don't think that won't matter." Siri raises an eyebrow. "Think of a way to distract me."

Padmé closes her eyes. She's already distracted. All that damned _leather_. Siri's different from Padmé's handmaidens; more self-assured, more equal. And the only distraction she can think of is...

Suddenly there's pressure, warm against her thighs. The shifting sound of leather moving, creaking as Siri settles down on top of Padmé. "Good," Siri murmurs. "That'd distract anyone."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your body language changed. You didn't have to say a word." Siri presses herself down, down further, and Padmé's eyes open just in time to see Siri's face an inch away from hers. "Would you do this with a stranger if it meant escape?"

"Wouldn't you?" Padmé whispers. She presses the lockpick further into the lock -- _there_, that's a tumbler, now she just needs to move it--

Siri slams her mouth down on Padmé's, tongue thrusting into Padmé's mouth. Padmé moans and loses her grip on her lockpick. It sticks in the lock for half a second before tumbling to the floor.

"Blast--" Padmé pulls away. "I lost it--"

Siri shoves up, locks eyes with her. "You lost focus."

"You wanted me to," Padmé shoots back. Siri goes still, and Padmé blinks up at her. That isn't what she meant -- she meant in this situation, a kidnapper would want her to lose focus -- but Siri's behaving like Padmé just stumbled over a secret, and there's no way Padmé's not going to take advantage of that now.

She rocks her hips up, lets her breath come faster. Siri grinds down in response, and her breath's coming faster, too. "This isn't going to teach you about lockpicking," she points out.

"Teach me that later."

Siri kisses her again, strokes her hands up Padmé's arms. She gets a thigh thrust between Padmé's, and Padmé groans, riding that leather and the hard muscle under it. She doesn't care that her hands are still bound; the only things that matter are the heat between her legs, Siri's tongue and teeth and lips, and the pressure building up inside her.

She tries to reach up, but her cuffs slam to the floor like they've been magnetized. It's not Siri's hands; her hands are moving lower, down to Padmé's breasts, cupping them and squeezing. "Cheater," Padmé gasps.

Siri laughs -- so few Jedi laugh like that -- and she bends her head down, licking a path to Padmé's nipple. Even through cloth, Padmé can feel the heat of it, and when Siri bites down, she can feel that, too.

"Harder," she moans. Siri gives it to her, teeth and the rub-thrust of her thigh, and Padmé's wrists tug hard against steel as she chases down that first orgasm, chases it like it's going to be stolen away from her at any moment. It's fast and ragged, and it's not half what she could get out of a slower fuck, the kind where she's not fully clothed and there's time for licking and stroking and long, easy kisses, but it's the best Padmé thinks she's going to get, and it's enough to make her groan.

Siri looks up at her. "Do you always rush like that?" she murmurs.

Padmé's eyes widen with the question. _Not_ what she was expecting to hear. "Planning to find out?" she asks.

Siri just smiles.

_-end-_


End file.
